


The Council of Finrod

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Glorfindel attends his first council meeting.





	The Council of Finrod

The Council of Finrod

 

   Glorfindel struggled to stand still as Gildor carefully brushed his hair, the long gold waves had a tendency to curl into knotted ringlets, and Glorfindel paid little heed to grooming. But the skillful fingers of Gildor teased out the tangles and burnished Glorfindel's hair into a sheet of shining gold. Finrod watched from the bath, still as the statues of Oromë, his face filled by his large light eyes. Glorfindel found his own gaze held by them, he could feel that Finrod spoke to him with those serious grey eyes, but the message eluded him. 

  
   Gildor put down the hairbrush and picked up the long lavish robe of Turgon. He shook it out and slipped one of Glorfindel's arms into a wide sleeve. As Glorfindel eased his shoulders into the smooth soft fabric and Gildor pulled the front straight, the message of Finrod became clear to Glorfindel; this robe was not a garment, this robe was armour. The ceremonial of dressing, the ritual of grooming, these were the same vital preparations that he himself made as a soldier, preparing for battle; examining each piece of kit, each weapon, cleaning and polishing, oiling blade and buckle, filling quivers, checking the fletching and number of arrows, every step was essential, for an unprepared soldier was more likely to kill himself and his fellows by his folly than to pose a threat to the enemy.   Here in the serene elegance of the pavilion of Finrod, the armour and the battlefield ahead were very different, but the ritual, and its purpose, were the same. Glorfindel breathed deeply and nodded once at Finrod, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. 

  
  He had not realized how tense Finrod had been until he saw his muscles unclench. Finrod leaned back against the silver bathtub, sighing quietly, his eyelids lowering slightly, a faint smile flickering across his face. Glorfindel smiled at him over the head of Gildor, who was bending over the garnet fastenings of the robe.   
 The face of Finrod seemed to ignite, a flush of passion, of love, coloured the pale gold cheeks and darkened the pale grey-blue eyes. Glorfindel felt his own body respond, from the expression on the face of Finrod he knew that his own face had displayed his feelings. They exchanged the wistful smile of passengers on passing ships, then Finrod breathed in heavily and spoke

  
   'My brother Orodreth will be attending the Council. I have asked that he arrive in advance of the time, in order that I may consult with him in private. I am asking that you leave my pavilion for a short while, not in order that I may act without you, but because my brother is shy, and will be unable to speak freely in your presence. In truth, in order that Orodreth be given the opportunity to speak about you, for I would hear his concerns. '

  Glorfindel pursed his lips and nodded  
 'I understand. There is something that I must do, in any case.' 

  Gildor fastened the last of the garnet clasps, pulled the front of the deep blue robe straight and looked up at Glorfindel with a smile

  
  'You look' he paused and frowned 'you look like a king, sir.'

  
   Glorfindel looked at Finrod, who was smiling with narrowed eyes 'He does. He looks more like a king than any of us. I think he is more... more wholesome than any of the House of Finwë,' he thought for a moment 'Excepting only my sister.'

  
  Gildor smiled 'If the lady Galadriel ever declared a wish to lead our people, an army of elves would beg her to let them die for her.'

  
   Finrod smiled 'Including myself !' he said with a laugh 'Alas, as the eldest, the task has fallen to me. But, Gildor, have the crowds departed ?'

  
 Gildor shook his head 'No, sire, they are quieter now, but something seems to have gotten into them, into the whole festival, there is a fever in the air, as though your love were a song, haunting all who hear it.'

  The eyes of Finrod and Glorfindel were fixed upon each other. Gildor stepped back, as one who would not stand between two leopards, snarling silently as they circled each other. But instead of the furious intent of destruction, here was a desire that ignited the very air, Gildor found his own body responding, and his breathing disturbed the silence. 

  
   Finrod smiled 'That being so, Glorfindel, you will need guards, if only to make it possible for you to walk.'

  
  Glorfindel frowned, then looked at Gildor 'Do you find me presentable? May I leave ?'

  
  Gildor smiled 'Sir, you look presentable whatever you wear, or do not wear. But sir, I urge you to look through the gap in the doors before you attempt to leave, you do not seem to appreciate how excited people are by your, ah, romance with my lord Finrod. There were small crowds here before you came, and I know that people followed you yourself already. The two of you together, why, even I, who know Finrod so well, am moved to see you so in love, it is heartening, sir, it is like being inside a song, or... or a dream.' Gildor blushed and looked down.

 Glorfindel turned to Finrod, consternation, and the elaborate robe, made him seem old and pompous, Finrod laughed 

  
  'Oh Glorfindel, you look truly the part of courtier. You must remember that expression and use it at the council, it is perfect.'

  
   Glorfindel frowned, blushing 'You mock me, I foresaw this.'

  
   The face of Finrod became serious 'No, my love, not you; I laugh at the ritual, the ceremony, the endless empty words that must be uttered and heard. I mock myself.'

  
   Glorfindel thought of his armour 'Yet is there not some value in the ritual of preparation ? The ceremony of robing ?'

  
   Finrod put his hands behind his head and looked up at the pavilion roof 'Perhaps, for some people, a habit is necessary for peace of mind, but I doubt that any particular ritual could affect their thoughts or deeds. You are thinking of armour, I surmise, but there is a difference. The armour is necessary, the careful preparation of a soldier's kit is essential to survival. But no part of the deliberations of the council is affected in any way by what we wear. It is the difference between a cook who carefully prepares the kitchen, the fire, the utensils and the ingredients, all necessary stages in the task of cooking, and a cook who spends hours selecting and arranging their costume, hairstyle, and jewellery, all the time fretting that some other cook will be wearing more gems, rather than thinking of the food itself.'

  
  Glorfindel nodded slowly 'And yet...I do now feel ready to face your council, now that Gildor has arrayed me thus.'

  
   Finrod shook his head 'It is your first council meeting. You feel encouraged and reassured by the attention. I myself forget that Gildor is there while I am being dressed, I use the time to plan my strategy, to bring to mind the words and wishes of the other councillors, and anticipate their responses. But I would have these thoughts were I to attend the council naked and unbathed, for they are a part of the task, and any councillor who does not also prepare their mind in this way would soon be replaced by someone competent. The robes are irrelevant.'

  Glorfindel looked at Gildor, whose face was full of approval and pride, something almost parental in his attitude to Finrod amused Glorfindel. He felt at ease in the pavilion for the first time, already he felt at home with these strangers, who knew each other so well that words were barely needed.

 'Thankyou Gildor. I accept your judgement, if you could find some people to help me to get through the crowds, I would be most grateful.' 

  
   Gildor bowed and left the room. Glorfindel turned to Finrod who held up his hands 

  
   'Stay back, the robe may be irrelevant, but Turgon intended you to wear it, and if you come closer I will drag you into the bath with me, and ruin Gildor's careful preparation. '

  
   Glorfindel stepped back swiftly, and sat down, but Gildor returned almost immediately 

  
   'Sire' he said to Finrod 'A guard of eight is ready to attend Glorfindel, and the prince Orodreth awaits your pleasure.'

  
   Finrod smiled 'Thankyou Gildor, please ask Orodreth to come in at once.' Gildor left and Glorfindel moved towards Finrod

 'I will kiss you again before I leave.' he said decidedly.

  
  Finrod smiled 'I would have begged it of you, my love.' 

  Glorfindel held his hair back and stooped over the bath, as Finrod lifted his chin and offered his mouth to Glorfindel. They kissed tenderly, Glorfindel found his heart racing as his body responded to the nearness of his beloved. His hands itched and clenched; restraining himself from laying them on the naked flesh beneath him made his breathing difficult. He heard the pearl curtain rattling behind him but he could not tear his lips from those of Finrod. He felt, rather than heard the small whimper that Finrod gave, and sighed. Already they understood each other; Finrod would do anything for him, it was for him to withdraw, or to take Finrod in front of his brother, and ruin the robe, the council meeting, everything...

  He sighed, stood up and turned to face Orodreth.

  Orodreth stood blushing in the doorway, strands of pearls scattered across his shoulders, he looked mortified. Glorfindel put a hand to his chest and bowed formally. 

  
   'Welcome to the pavilion of Finrod, sire, please excuse my abrupt departure, but I shall see you again at the meeting of the council.'

  
   Orodreth nodded and brushed the pearls from his shoulders 'I... thank you Glorfindel. May I also welcome you here, and tell you how glad you have made me, and how proud. Finrod deserves the best, and that is you, without any doubt.'

  
   Glorfindel, too astonished at the eloquent words of the normally silent Orodreth to grasp his meaning, bowed again and hurried out of the room. 

  Gildor awaited him by the entrance 'Have no fear, sir, these are not enemies. The guard is to help you move, not to protect you. Without them, I fear you would never reach the next pavilion, much less your own tent.'

  
   Glorfindel smiled at him 'Thankyou Gildor, I shall return as swiftly as the crowd permits.'

  
   The crowd cheered enthusiastically as Glorfindel emerged, on either side of him the guards formed into lines, and the soldiers at the front held their two shields close together, to enable them to part the crowd. People struggled to move aside as the flowers began to fill the air. Glorfindel found himself holding his hands above his head, until the guards on either side raised their shields.

  His eyes caught those of one of the guards 'But this is madness!' he shouted.

  The guard smiled back 'I think the wine may be affecting them... But they have behaved this way with Finrod, and others; have no fear sir, we shall protect you, and besides, they do not wish to hurt you, these are the gestures of love, sir, not hatred.'

  The crowd had thinned, though a few youngsters still ran and skipped alongside them, as they reached the small plain tent of Glorfindel, in the neat rows of tents of the soldiers of Turgon. Glorfindel stepped inside the small, hot tent, fastened the flaps wide open, and unceremoniously tipped the contents of his kitbag onto his narrow bed. He turned things over as he sorted through them, and finally found the bag of gemstones his mother had given him at their parting. He had not glanced at them since that first camp, on the first night of their march away from Tirion.

  But one gem had stayed in his mind, an opal of great size, polished into the shape of a teardrop, its nacreous hue deepened by a fractured rainbow of colour. He poured the gems onto the bedcover and picked out the opal; it was as lovely as his memory had suggested, the perfect gift for one as fair and complex as his precious Finrod. In a small silver box that his sister had given him, he found a worthy chain to hang the opal from, and smiled to himself, his mind filled with the image of Finrod, wearing nothing but the opal...

 He stuffed his belongings back into the kitbag and glanced at the door. He hesitated, should he bring his kit with him ? Would that be presumptuous ? He thought of Finrod, swearing to follow him into the uttermost East. He smiled to himself, swung the kitbag onto his shoulder and looked around the tent. There was nothing else in it but the washstand, and a plain hard chair. He smiled at the narrow bed, he had not even laid his head on the pillow, for he had met Finrod on the morning of the first night of Mereth Aderthad, and he knew that he would never now return to this small tent. He braced himself with a sigh, and stepped out between the guards.

 

 There was a group of formally-robed Elves waiting with Gildor outside the pavilion of Finrod. Glorfindel was relieved to see that the crowd had thinned somewhat. The guard, who had siezed his kitbag from him and insisted on carrying it for him, spoke softly

  
   'Gildor will tell you what to do, sir, he arranges these matters for my lord Finrod.'

  
   Glorfindel nodded 'I am beginning to see that. Thankyou for everything.'

  
  'Our pleasure sir, its always a treat to be cheered, even if you are only escort for the hero of the hour.'

  
   Glorfindel laughed 'The hero of the hour... I hope he will not so soon tire of me !' 

  
   The guard looked at him in surprise 'Oh no, sir, Finrod has never been like this before, no, it is the crowd who are fickle. Finrod is as constant as the stars, you may be sure of that sir.'

  
   Glorfindel felt his chest swell with pride, his throat seemed to clench his mouth into silence, he could barely smile at the guard as Gildor approached them. 

  
   'My lord Glorfindel, he asks that you enter at once. I will look after your possessions for you.'  
 He took the kitbag from the guard and ushered Glorfindel past the group of councillors, one of whom greeted Glorfindel warmly. It was Merilhen, a fellow athlete, though not one he knew well. 

  'Merilhen, many years have passed since last we raced together ! What brings you to the council of Finrod ?'

  
  Merilhen, named for the grey eyes which were so pale that they seemed almost white, and took on the colour of their surroundings with the milky shimmer of a pearl, smiled knowingly at Glorfindel

  'I would say that my task here was the same as your own, but I think you have many duties that I will not be expected to carry out...' he laughed at the expression on Glorfindel's face 'I too am a military liaison, for the lord Maedhros.'

  
  Glorfindel felt an enormous sense of relief, if someone like Merilhen could hold this post unremarked, there was no need for concern; despite it being clear to all that he had been appointed at the wish of Finrod, he would at least not only be competent in the role, but, perhaps more importantly, he would be considered so by the other councillors. He sighed with relief

  'I am more pleased to see you than I can say' he said to the surprised Merilhen, 'I hope we shall speak more later.'

  
  Merilhen tilted his head to one side 'I would be delighted, Glorfindel, but do not tear yourself from his side on my account.' 

  
 Glorfindel felt his cheeks redden, but Merilhen looked kindly at him, and he smiled, and entered the pavilion.

 

 

  Finrod was seated at one end of the long oval table, Orodreth by his side. Glorfindel hurried forwards as Finrod rose, and they found themselves folding together into a kiss as naturally as though they had been lovers for years, rather than hours, and as hungrily as though they had been parted for months rather than minutes. Glorfindel raised his head and smiled at Finrod.

  
  'I have a small gift for you, a mere token, an ornament, although you need none. It is nothing much.'

  
   Finrod interrupted him with a laugh 'Do not apologise! I would be proud to receive a blade of grass from you, and I would treasure it forever.'

  
  Glorfindel nodded slowly 'I would do the same. But this is not a blade of grass.'

  
   He took out the opal, and placed the long chain over the head of Finrod, lifting the pale gold hair to set it around his neck. The heavy gemstone hung low on Finrod's chest, and Orodreth gave a quiet, wordless exclamation. They turned to look at him, he gestured at the opal, struggling visibly for words

  'It is perfect, it goes perfectly, with the blue of his robe, the green of his own crest, the yellow and red of the crest of father, they are all echoed in the, in your, in...'

  
  Their eyes met, but Glorfindel looked down at the opal, and said softly 'You forgot to mention the gold of his hair, the cream of his skin...' 

  Finrod blushed, but laughed 'I beg you not to address me thus, nor to say such things, in the presence of my council, for not only will everyone be embarrassed, but I will lose the power of speech, or even thought, if you do.'

  He stepped away from Glorfindel and took hold of the back of his chair with both hands, visibly composing himself. Glorfindel looked around the room, there were inkwells, quills and parchments arranged on the long table, and clear glasses filled with minted water by each seat. He felt sobered by the formality of the arrangements, and looked at Finrod with a sense of trepidation that was almost new to him 

  
  'Where should I sit ?' he asked, almost shyly. The sons of Finarfin smiled at him, but Finrod gestured at the long table 'We do not take formality so far, sit where you please, soldier of Turgon, and be welcome at my council.' 

  
  Glorfindel looked quickly at Orodreth, seeking any clue he could glean about where best to sit, but Orodreth had turned to his brother. Glorfindel laughed at himself, he felt like an infant setting out for its first lessons, he was more unsure of himself than he had ever been in battle, he was baffled by the very first choice he had been given. Embarrassed, he sat down hurriedly in the nearest chair, on the other side of Finrod to Orodreth, and smiled awkwardly at them both.

  Finrod laid a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder.  
 'Be at ease, my love, I do not think that you will be called upon to speak on this occasion.'  
 Glorfindel found the tension in his shoulders easing, he sighed, and from the corner of his eye saw Orodreth smile at him with understanding.

  He smiled back as Finrod spoke loudly 'Very well, Gildor.'  
  The councillors filed into the pavilion and seated themselves without fuss. The atmosphere was that of a group accustomed to each other, but Glorfindel could feel, with his soldier's skin, the swaying currents of strife, for though these were allies with a common Enemy, their varying priorities and particular interests meant that their views and opinions frequently clashed. Glorfindel suppressed a smile; battle was so much simpler for a soldier, kill or be killed, one did not negotiate with the orc.

  Finrod rose to his feet and the council fell silent. In the stillness Finrod spoke

  
 'Before the council begins its deliberations, I would make an announcement.'  
Glorfindel glanced round the carefully composed faces of the councillors, long practiced at concealing their personal opinions; he knew that here, at least, he would learn nothing from either their expressions or their words, not until he had had long experience of them as individuals, and of meetings such as this.

  
  Finrod continued 'I have spoken before of my intention, of the necessity, indeed, to form an expedition of reconnaissance, to investigate sites worthy of habitation, and consider the necessary fortification of vulnerable points in our defences. It is my intention, now, to launch the vanguard of this expedition at once, from this very place, under the direction of Gildor Inglorion, who is known to all here. In my absence, the regency will pass to Orodreth, my dearest brother and trusted companion and friend. He has my full confidence, and knows my mind on all matters which concern this council. Glorfindel, the newly appointed military liaison of our cousin Turgon, will also accompany the expedition, and provide assistance with the military considerations. 

  
   We shall travel south by boat, exploring the Narog, and return north along the coast. I shall build a house in Arvernien in the far south, which I have visited once before, on a ship out of Vinyamar. But the realm that we must govern is a land that I have never seen, and I can do nothing to defend it without much further intelligence of its nature and landscape.'

  He paused and looked around at the solemn faces 'The Enemy seems to like the cold, he seems to remain in the far north; I am confident that travelling south will be comparatively safe. But Gildor will ensure that I am well guarded, and I shall return within in a year, or sooner, should the Enemy attack. Lines of communication will be maintained in the event of emergency, and for the exchange of news.' he smiled 'My friends, we may discover anything out there, undiscovered Sindar cultures, Dwarven realms in deep caverns, seams of precious stones exposed to the air, unseen by any eyes but ours.'

  His eyes turned to Glorfindel and he smiled; for Glorfindel the room and the councillors seemed to shrink and recede, only Finrod was there, full of quiet power and authority, as beautiful as sunlight, filling his astonished mind and his devoted heart.

  Glorfindel barely heard the words of the councillors as they asked questions and expressed their formal good wishes. At one point his eyes were caught by those of Merilhen, who smiled complicitly at him, and he remembered that these councillors would be surreptitiously scrutinising everything about him. He held himself straight and tried to adopt the solemnity of the other councillors, as Finrod offered the same reassurances for the fourth time. Nobody called on him to speak, nor, in fact, did Merilhen say anything, for all could see the necessity of the expedition, and there were no actual objections to any aspect of it. His own name and part in the expedition were not even mentioned, he felt at once conspicuous and insignificant, it was  peculiarly unsettling. 

 

  Finrod's announcement of his imminent departure, while hardly a surprise, had caused the councillors to avoid raising questions that Finrod would now refer to Orodreth. There would be new opportunities now, for Orodreth, though of like mind to Finrod, lacked his authority, his eloquence and his skill at facilitating meetings.

  The eyes of the counsellors began to scrutinise each other, watching the currents of power shift as their minds assessed the new situation. Glorfindel forgot his self-consciousness as his interest in the minutiae of the subtle battlefield of diplomacy grew. He repressed a smile, Finrod clearly had no intention of making him a military liaison, he was to be whisked away to the South at once; it was possible, he concluded, that this would be the only such meeting he ever attended.

  He could not restrain his smile, it had been only two days since they had met, his future was suddenly completely unknown to him, the undiscovered country of Beleriand attracted him like honeycomb; the thought of exploring it with his beloved Finrod, seeing it through the eyes of the new king, filled him with a delight he could not conceal. The next time he caught the eyes of Merilhen, he received a smile of joy in return, and knew that Merilhen, at least, wished him well.

  But the councillors were chosen for their acute perceptiveness; to their experienced eyes, Glorfindel appeared as one skipping around the room, singing loudly. Their questions tailed off into smiles of unaccustomed warmth, there was an almost friendly atmosphere as Finrod called the meeting to a close, and the councillors thanked him. Finrod stood, and the others rose to their feet; Glorfindel's first council meeting was over. 

 

 

  A few of the councillors left, including Merilhen, who gave Glorfindel a cheerful wave. Finrod turned to give Orodreth some words of encouragement; the remaining councillors had gathered into two small groups and were talking quietly. Glorfindel was at a loss, his orders had run out, there were no more instructions, for the first time in his life, nobody would tell him what to do next. As the military liaison of Turgon, he should leave, as the lover of Finrod, he should remain.

  
  He turned, Finrod had his back to him, tall and straight, the deep blue formal robe hung shimmering from his wide shoulders. His pale gold hair flowed smoothly down his back, he looked what he was, a king of the Elves, and Glorfindel was choked with uncertainty and intimidation. He gripped the back of his chair, watching his knucles whiten with the strain. He was a novice on this battlefield, he felt both cold with fear and hot with embarrassment. He wished to flee, but despised his own cowardly urge. His own turmoil enraged him; for a moment he hated Finrod and all his House.

  Gildor appeared silently and placed a tray carrying two goblets of wine on the table between Glorfindel and Finrod, the councillors began to leave, and behind Finrod, Orodreth said farewell. 

  
  The pavilion altered for Glorfindel; from the remote formality of a council chamber of kings, it returned to being the dining room of his beloved Finrod, who was bidding farewell to his brother. He felt heartened by the presence of Gildor, the tray with two goblets reassured him, he knew that Finrod wished him to remain, but his sense of his own ignorance, his appalling weakness on this unfamiliar order and type of battlefield intimidated him, he felt nervous and hesitant. He could picture the other councillors taking off their masks of politeness and mocking him, laughing at Finrod, jeering. He clenched his teeth angrily, but his eyes fell on the rich red wine, he smiled coldly, a soldier should always be adequately provisioned; he took a goblet and drank deeply.

  Orodreth bade farewell to Glorfindel and departed. Gildor stood before Finrod and, carefully removing his formal robe, took it away with him. Finrod, in breeches and tunic, sat down with a sigh and picked up his goblet. Glorfindel's mind spun like a whirlwind as his purpose focused into a single intent, he breathed deeply, the world became solid and clear, the diamond hardness of certainty returned to him. He unfasted the garnet clasps of his own robe, but did not remove it. Finrod had put his goblet down and turned to smile up at Glorfindel with guileless  joy in his eyes.

  But Glorfindel had seen the masks, his trust was shaken, Finrod seemed altered to him. He had seen masks before; he had never been troubled by masks, they had never mattered, either on the battlefield or in the bedchamber, but he had never before felt so vulnerable. The sense of his own weakness enraged him, he had never felt like this until he had encountered Finrod. Here was the cause of his anger. He looked down into the shining grey-blue eyes and remembered that they were alone, that there was nothing to stop him.

  Moving more swiftly than he ever had, he siezed Finrod by the wrists and twisted him round. The pale smooth hair slid across his face, like fingers of sunlight, like a caress. He pushed Finrod face down onto the table and held his wrists behind his back with one hand, while with the other he withdrew his dagger. The metallic hiss of the drawn blade made Finrod's body go rigid under him, Glorfindel smiled coldly as he carefully lowered the dagger into the seam of Finrod's breeches and cut apart the threads holding the garment together. He put the dagger on the table and widened the hole with his hand, then began to caress the exposed flesh. Finrod's body began to tremble, his breathing had become audible, Glorfindel smiled hungrily and guided himself into Finrod, who stiffened, and then slowly grew limp. They both uttered the same low sound, a breath of relief. For Glorfindel the world seemed coherent again, he was in the right place, doing the right thing, his lover moved eagerly against him, he stood still, shining with joy, love and desire, and knew that he would treasure the memory of this moment forever.  
   
  He looked around him, at the statue, the curtain of pearl and silver, and down at Finrod, whose eyes were closed and whose lips were parted, he moved a little, back and forth, and Finrod's eyes slowly opened. He turned his head slightly and smiled sideways at Glorfindel, the pale eyes, their pupils wide with desire, looked knowingly at him from the corners under the long lashes. Glorfindel marvelled at the change from the hesitant innocent of two days before. 

  
   He picked up the dagger and slid it gently between the tunic and the neck of Finrod. Carefully lifting the fabric he cut down the middle and tore it from Finrod's shoulders. With a strip torn from the ruined tunic he bound Finrod's hands, and gave a great sigh of relief. Finrod's eyes closed again, but Glorfindel, pressed inside him, could feel his arousal intensify. He ran his hands over the pale gold flesh, feeling at home, at peace, at ease, for the first time since he had awoken.

  He thought again of Finrod looking at him asleep, and comparing him with a painting of him asleep, and how he had awakened into his own nightmare, of being the plaything of one of these kings. His mind was in turmoil, the helplessness of Finrod filled him with an almost euphoric sense of power, his profound love for Finrod made him dream of slaying the Enemy to keep Finrod safe, but his joy seemed marred by the fact that this was the council chamber and beneath his hands was the king who ruled from it. He took up the dagger and slid it cautiously under the waistband of Finrod's rent breeches. The sharp blade sliced easily through the fine fabric, and Glorfindel tore away the shreds; finally he had his lover naked, he gloated over the creamy-gold skin, running his hands down the tightly-muscled sides, admiring the sinewy strength of Finrod the archer.

  He began to move, desire filled his mind; his rage at his own insignificance fuelled his passion, he gripped Finrod by the shoulders and thrust urgently into him, stooping over the helpless body, his own golden hair spilling forwards over his shoulders to mingle with the silvery gold hair of Finrod. The tangled strands moved across each other, curled and twisted as Glorfindel moved and Finrod's body moved with him. Their hair looked like water, thought Glorfindel, like water in blinding sunlight, tumbling ripples of gold. His mind seemed to float upwards through his body, his intense feelings focused to a point; the heat of Finrod's body, the flames of his own love burned through him, and with a furious intensity he hammered into Finrod as though he would slay him.

  
  Finrod gasped and began to breathe noisily at each thrust, Glorfindel moved as one possessed by a single thought, the table shook and rocked beneath them, parchments scattered, quills floated to the floor, an inkwell overturned and spread a black pool across the table, soaking into parchment and quill. Finrod's skin began to glow with sweat, Glorfindel felt composed entirely of flame, there was only the heat of desire in all the world, his body moved urgently, desperate to reach the elusive treasure within Finrod, his mind floating clear, laughing at his own folly, until finally he reached his goal; his body convulsed as the ecstasy flooded through him, the bright hot joy of bliss, floating in the ocean of his love for Finrod.

  Still quivering slightly in bliss, he looked serenely down at Finrod gasping for breath and trembling beneath him. He ran his hands over the sleek, slick flesh, then stooped and began to lick the salty skin. Finrod whimpered softly, but Glorfindel lingered, tasting the delight of his lover's desperate desire, relishing his own power to delay or to release him, at his own whim. It was not he who was the plaything, it was Finrod, but only when Finrod was like this, made helpless by the bonds of his own desire, and the bonds with which Glorfindel restrained him. He moved more swiftly, his own power aroused him, he would give Finrod the release he craved; love filled his heart, he lifted Finrod and pressed him against his chest. With both hands he caressed Finrod's body, arched against him; he ran his hands down and began to move them, with increasing swiftness, until Finrod in his turn shook and convulsed and cried aloud in ecstasy, his head thrown back on Glorfindel's shoulder, his unseeing eyes half-closed. He became still in Glorfindel's arms and Glorfindel licked the long neck, and pressed his cheek against Finrod's, until Finrod turned to kiss him. Glorfindel realized with slight horror that it was their first kiss since before the council meeting. He stroked Finrod's stomach, considering how to convey his remorse.

  But Finrod raised his head and said  
 'I wish this moment could last forever.'

  
  Glorfindel looked at him, startled 'I thought that myself, but...' he hesitated 'I wanted to preseve a different moment...' 

  
 Finrod laughed and shifted slightly in his arms, moving gently against him. 'I think I may be able to solve our riddle...' he laughed 'We simply have to repeat this act many times. Although neither moment will be preserved forever, nevertheless, we may enjoy such moments again in a seemingly endless fashion.'

  
 Glorfindel laughed and kissed him 'But first, some wine. We must also preserve the times of rest.'  
 

 

   
 


End file.
